


cupcakes

by tarinumenesse



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26402782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarinumenesse/pseuds/tarinumenesse
Summary: Dimitri comes home to find an unexpected but most welcome intruder.Alternatively, Dimitri and Byleth bake cupcakes.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 20
Kudos: 97





	cupcakes

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the world of Finding Our Feet, but can be read without reading that series. It's really just fluff.

Dimitri shut the front door with a sigh. Home at last. The networking event had ended earlier than expected, but it had nonetheless been an exhausting afternoon. He was looking forward to collapsing on the couch with a cup of tea and a novel. Probably one he had read before so he would not be tempted to put in too much effort. But as he looked down to kick off his shoes, an unexpected sight changed his outlook for the evening, and for the better.

Smiling, Dimitri bent down to move the pastel green ballet flats, lying right where they were likely to trip someone, onto the shoe rack. He shucked his brogues, not worrying about untying the laces, and placed them neatly beside the flats.

“Byleth?” he called, tugging the knot of his tie to loosen it as he wandered down the hall, keys still in hand.

A metallic crash gave away her location and simultaneously woke Dimitri’s fear. He bolted, nearly slipping in his socks on the polished floor, to the kitchen. There he found Byleth, standing stock-still and stunned, with a rose-printed apron over her shorts and t-shirt, and a wooden spoon clutched in her hands. The cupboard above her head was open and a muddle of cake tins lay at her feet.

Dimitri released another relieved sigh as he ascertained she was not injured.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“What are you doing here?” Byleth demanded.

Her tone was so accusatory, so angry, that Dimitri smiled. He had not expected to be greeted in such a manner.

“Beloved, this is my house,” he pointed out, stepping through the door and placing his keys and phone on the bench.

It was the wrong move. Byleth leapt over the cake tins, brandishing the wooden spoon like a sword.

“Get out! Get out!” she cried.

Dimitri caught the spoon, wincing a little as it clapped against his palm. Byleth had a strong swing. While she tried to tug her weapon from his grip, he made an assessment of the kitchen. On the bench, the mixer that hadn’t been used since his stepmother passed. Beside it, a collection of unopened groceries. Flour, eggs, milk and sugar were the only things he recognised. Cake tins on the floor. The oven hummed gently, its small digital screen flashing with an ever increasing number.

Byleth had stopped struggling. Dimitri looked down at her. Her hair was tied up, revealing her adorable pointed ears.

“You’re baking,” he said.

She harrumphed and yanked on the spoon again. Dimitri let it go.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” she mumbled.

“It is a surprise.” Dimitri removed his tie and placed it beside his keys. He undid the top few buttons of his shirt. “Where do we start?”

Byleth was still for a moment, chewing her lip. Her eyes darted towards the pile of cake tins.

“I suppose by picking them up?” she said.

Dimitri chuckled and crouched down. He selected a tin and studied it, intrigued by the latch on its side.

“Don’t try to reach the top cupboards alone next time,” he said.

“I’m of a perfectly average height,” Byleth replied, ducking down beside him.

Dimitri leaned over and kissed her hair.

“Exactly,” he said. “Just short enough.”

“Shut up.”

Together, they collected the tins—so many mysterious shapes and sizes—and stacked them. As Dimitri put them away, Byleth pointed to the cupcake trays leaning against the side of the cupboard. They were the only things that hadn’t fallen out. Dimitri retrieved them.

“Now what?” he asked.

Byleth turned and consulted a book that lay open beside the mixer. Dimitri put the trays down on the bench and slung his arms around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“Where did you get that?” he asked.

“The cupboard over there,” Byleth said, pointing towards the fridge without looking. “It think it’s your stepmother’s.”

Dimitri glanced in that direction to see the cupboard beside the fridge hanging open. Above the broom and the mop (his stepmother had always insisted on having separate tools to clean the kitchen) was a shelf loaded with books.

“Huh,” he said. “I’ve never noticed them before.”

“Probably because you don’t do the cleaning.” Byleth ran her finger down the cookbook’s page and stopped at the first instruction. “Combine the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a bowl.”

She crossed to the groceries, Dimitri shuffling along behind her with his arms still around her waist. She picked up the bag of flour, looked at it and swore.

“What?” Dimitri asked.

“I bought self-raising,” she said. “The recipe says all purpose.”

“Does it matter?”

“Presumably,” Byleth said, tapping her fingers on the benchtop. “Why else would they specify it?”

She titled her head back, resting it against Dimitri as she peered up at him.

“Do you have any flour?” she questioned.

Dimitri grinned. “By, I have never, ever baked in my life.”

“Hmm.” Byleth returned her attention to the flour bag. “I haven’t done a lot myself. But I used to watch my father and I feel like the type of flour does make a difference.”

“Wait. Your father bakes?”

“Of course,” Byleth said, elbowing Dimitri away from her. She opened a drawer and dug through it, before closing it and opening another. “You should taste his peanut butter and chocolate cookies. Oh, and his sponge cake. They’re really hard to make, apparently.”

Dimitri was so stuck on the image of Jeralt baking that he only realised Byleth was tearing apart his kitchen when she dropped a frypan on the floor. She winced in apology as she scooped it up and returned it to the drawer.

“What are you looking for?” Dimitri asked.

“A sifter,” Byleth answered.

“A what?”

“A sifter. It seems like your stepmother was a baker too, so I thought I would check. I can use a sieve if you don’t have one, but…ah ha!”

Byleth produced the sifter, the stainless steel cylinder well used and dented, from a drawer. Dimitri immediately recalled his stepmother using it to scatter flour over the benchtop when making bread. Byleth squeezed on the handle and a grating sound, strangely comforting, filled the room.

“This is the best part,” Byleth said gleefully. “Dad always let me sift the flour. Anyway, we’ll start with that.”

Dimitri opened the bag of flour and picked up one of the measuring cups set out beside the mixer. He hadn’t known he owned a set.

“How much?” he asked.

Byleth referred to the recipe again.

“Two and a half cups.”

Dimitri measured the first cup of flour into the sifter while Byleth held it over a bowl. She shook it, causing the flour to even out, before nodding for more. Dimitri added the other cup and a half, which filled the device nearly to the top. Byleth squeezed the handle.

A cloud of flour erupted into the air and Dimitri coughed as he inhaled it. Byleth dropped the sifter. Its contents spilt across the bench.

“Are you all right?” she exclaimed.

“I’m fine,” Dimitri choked.

Byleth rushed over to the sink. He heard the tap and a moment later she shoved a cup of water into his hand. He took a careful sip.

“Who knew flour was so dangerous?” he joked when his throat was clear.

Byleth didn’t return his grin. Her eyes were wide and stricken as she stared at his clothing.

“Oh no,” she said.

Dimitri looked down to see a fine dusting of flour over his shirt and, more worryingly, his dark grey suit jacket.

“I probably should have changed first,” he mused.

Byleth brushed his lapel and only succeeded in smudging the flour across the fabric.

“Oh no,” she repeated. “Is this designer?”

“Never mind.”

“Oh goddess, it is!” Byleth gasped. “I’m so sorry. How much is it? I’ll pay for it. Or I’ll get it cleaned.”

Dimitri caught her wrists to stop her trying to fix it.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll take it to the cleaners’ tomorrow. Why don’t you sift the flour while I get changed?”

Byleth looked up at him, her stormy blue eyes still wide.

“Right,” she said. “Flour. I can do that.”

At the endearing confusion on her face, a toxic mix of adoration and happiness burst from the centre of Dimitri’s chest. He used his hold on her wrists to draw her to him.

Byleth melted against Dimitri as he kissed her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her even closer, while hers looped around his neck. She used that leverage to pull his head further down, eagerly deepening the kiss. Dimitri quickly revised his plan—leave the flour. But when he tugged on the apron’s tie, figuring that was the best place to start, Byleth mumbled against his lips and pulled back.

“No,” she said. “Baking. Cupcakes.”

“Bed,” Dimitri countered before nibbling her earlobe.

Byleth squeaked and wiggled out of his embrace.

“No,” she said. “Cupcakes. It’s supposed to be your surprise.”

Dimitri sighed and picked up his tie. “Very well. Sift the flour and I’ll be back.”

When Dimitri returned to the kitchen, Byleth was dumping milk, butter and eggs into the mixer bowl. She glanced over her shoulder at him, then looked again. Her gaze drifted slowly down his body, much to his satisfaction. He had purposely picked a t-shirt that was a little too snug for lounging around the house. If she was going to parade around in those shorts, the least he could do was get revenge.

“How can I help?” he asked.

“Put the liners in the tray,” Byleth said, pointing to them with her elbow. “That seems like a safe job for you.”

Dimitri dropped another kiss on her head as he passed her.

“Famous last words.” He opened the packet of liners and began to peel them apart. “So why the sudden urge to bake?”

Byleth shrugged. “I’ve been so busy with my thesis lately. I feel like I’ve been neglecting you.”

“You haven’t been neglecting me. Doctorates are tough. I understand you’re busy.”

“Not that busy,” Byleth said as she put the bowl under the mixer and switched it on. She raised her voice as the engine whirred. “Just single-minded. Anyway, I missed you. So I thought it would be nice to come over and make cupcakes for when you got home. But you were early.”

“The meeting finished sooner than I expected.”

“How was it?”

Dimitri considered as he placed the liners into the tray’s indents.

“Just a normal networking meeting,” he concluded. “Nothing particularly remarkable. Though there were a couple of members of the Faerghus party in attendance, so my father was mentioned a lot.”

Byleth left the mixer to do its work and hugged Dimitri.

“I’m glad I came then,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dimitri replied. “Just tired.”

Byleth squeezed him tight before letting him go and returning to the mixer.

“Cupcakes will make you feel better,” she said, turning the machine off.

“What’s the source behind that?” Dimitri asked.

“Mercedes.”

Dimitri smiled as he watched Byleth added the flour mix to the bowl.

“What would Sylvain say in this situation?” he murmured. “You know what’s a better way to cheer me up?”

Byleth pointed at him with the wooden soon, clearly fighting her own smile.

“No,” she said. “Don’t flirt.”

Dimitri leaned sideways against the bench, crossing his arms.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he challenged.

Byleth opened her mouth, closed it, and turned back to the mixer. She gave the batter a quick stir before lowering the beaters and turning it on again.

“You’re getting better,” she said.

“You speak as though you’re good at it.”

“Flirting? We manage, don’t we?”

“I don’t think so. Not according to Sylvain’s definition. What we do is more…”

Dimitri waved his arms through the air. Byleth grinned and copied him. She gasped as cake mixture splattered on the bench from the spoon still in her hand.

“That’s exactly it,” Dimitri said, laughing.

When the batter was ready, Dimitri held the bowl while Byleth scooped it into the liners. The last cupcake was smaller than the others, but Byleth decided it didn’t matter. They put the trays in the oven and turned to face the mess. There were more dirty bowls than Dimitri ever remembered his stepmother using and flour they had spilt at the first step had somehow ended up all over the floor.

“Should we clean up?” Byleth asked, as though she was seriously considering not doing so.

“Surely you weren’t planning on leaving it,” Dimitri said.

Byleth shrugged. Dimitri shook his head affectionately as he plugged the sink and turned the tap on.

While he did the dishes, Byleth stood in front of the oven with a tea towel in one hand, pretending to dry the dishes while really watching the cupcakes.

“They’re rising,” she reported.

“Isn’t that what they’re supposed to do?”

“No, I mean they’re really rising. They’re going to be huge.”

Dimitri shook the suds from his hands before joining her and peering into the oven.

“Muffins?” he suggested, taking the towel from her.

“That would save the work of icing them.”

Dimitri chuckled as he picked up a bowl to dry it. Byleth spun from the oven.

“I was going to do that,” she said half-heartedly.

“Don’t worry,” Dimitri replied.

For a moment Byleth pouted, then she ducked past him and grabbed the broom from the cupboard.

“I’ll sweep the floor,” she declared.

“That would be much appreciated.”

The oven timer sounded as they finished clearing the mess. Byleth yelped and rushed to it, grabbing a metal skewer. She opened the oven, pulled out the shelf with a tea towel as protection, and stabbed one of the cupcakes. She examined the skewer, stabbed a second cake, and repeated the process.

“By?” Dimitri asked as she shoved the skewer into another poor victim.

“I get nervous they won’t be cooked,” she said. “But the skewer’s clean.”

“Then I think we’re safe.”

“I guess,” Byleth said doubtfully.

Dimitri donned the oven mitts and took the trays from the oven. He carefully scooted around Byleth as she managed to get in the way and placed them down on the stovetop. Byleth pushed him aside so she could admire them.

“They’re so pretty,” she whispered, poking one with her finger.

Dimitri closed the oven door and switched it off.

“They are,” he said. “You should be proud of yourself.”

“You helped.”

“Only a little.”

Byleth wrapped her arms around Dimitri’s waist and looked back at the cupcakes.

“Can I eat one yet?” she asked.

“I thought they were for me,” Dimitri said.

“I changed my mind. They’re for me.”

“What about my surprise?”

Byleth bit her lip for a long moment. Then she slipped a hand under his t-shirt and walked her fingers across his stomach.

“Me,” she said. “I’m your surprise.”

Even knowing it was bribery, it was hard to resist. Dimitri swept Byleth into his arms and turned from the stovetop.

“No more cupcakes,” he said. “Bed.”

Byleth laughed and kissed his cheek. “As you wish, your highness,” she whispered.

She had never called him anything like that before and it took him a moment to process it. Feeling heat spread across his neck and face, Dimitri stopped at the staircase, placed Byleth back on her feet and trapped her against the wall.

“Are you trying to flirt?” he asked.

“Is it working?” Byleth asked curiously. “I mean, I’m wearing an apron, so I thought…”

Dimitri stared at her until the feeling of ridiculousness grew too large to bear and he broke down in laughter.

“What…where…?” he stammered.

Byleth blinked, then laughed as well.

“Thank goddess,” she giggled, flushing in embarrassment. “That felt so silly.”

Dimitri kissed her.

“Please,” he said, “please don’t ever call me that again.”

“Okay,” Byleth said. She tugged at his top. “Now take this off.”

Dimitri obeyed. At the same time, Byleth untied her apron and threw it aside. When she looked back at him, Dimitri caressed her face, sweeping a longer section of her bangs behind her ear, sparing a moment to take her in and revel in his good fortune.

“I love you, Byleth,” he said.

“Love you too,” she smiled back, catching his hand. “Bed?”

“Bed,” he agreed as she led him up the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea struck me first thing in the morning and ruined my day, so everyone else must suffer too.


End file.
